


Burning Daisies, Blooming Gladiolus

by Makowo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Autistic Naegi Makoto, Before Hope Arc, Depression, F/M, Fluff, HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAEGI MAKOTO ILY 💖💖💖🎉🎉, He's also bi but i couldn't find a good way to put that in, Honestly fuck hope arc, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Suicide Ideation, Poetry, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Male Character, fuck you hope arc one day im going to murder you in cold blood, it is a fact tho, makoto is trans baybe!!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makowo/pseuds/Makowo
Summary: It's honestly stupid to him how such a small item can lead to so much
Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto
Comments: 8
Kudos: 106





	Burning Daisies, Blooming Gladiolus

**Author's Note:**

> Bitch this took. So fucking long for me to do. I am in pain.  
> Being a procrastinator isn't easy :3  
> Anyways yeah this is literally just. Makoto but he does poetry bcs he is pretty dramatic, in his thoughts of course  
> Under-appreciated character detail i live for  
> Happy birthday to my favorite boy tho!!! As usual, it's some angst hehe. But also some fluff 😳

The ruins of Hope’s Peak Academy don’t look like ruins at all. To be expected, of course. The world is still recovering from a despairful tragedy, so no vines have grown. No plantlife, or much of any life for that matter to inhabit it once more. Not even despairlings to pillage its supplies. No, nothing was touched. Not one thing disturbed.

“Not even the food…” Makoto grimaces, walking away from the cafeteria so that others may tend to its rotting contents. He doubts a soul has been here in years, though that makes it sound like far too long. It’s only been… four or five years since they took their first steps out into the wasteland the earth had become. It’s a wonder no one has come by to scavenge the valuables from this building, as they have most.

Then again, it could perhaps be a taboo. This is the resting place of so many innocent lives, and the grave of Ultimate Despair. No doubt, that could be the only possible explanation as to why no one lurks upon these grounds. No one they’ve discovered as of yet, at the very least.

With a sigh of mostly mental fatigue and a tug of his suit’s sleeves Naegi treds onward, letting himself wander. It’s not as if they have anywhere specific to look. It’s a simple job; clear out the place, and decide on what should stay and what should go. Makoto can certainly say the multi-colored lights filling the halls they could live without.

His legs carry him to the dorms, as he partly expected. Most of them had agreed to check around their dorms last, as they doubt there was much more than personal items left. Still, it couldn’t hurt to get it over with, right?

Naegi takes a hesitant step towards his door, taking a moment to gaze upon the nameplate. He has to wonder who exactly made these sprite versions of them; was it Junko, or a choice of the school? Is Jin truly so tacky? The classrooms aren’t exactly the most… fashionable, so he wouldn’t put it past him and whoever designed this school.

Makoto chuckles to himself. As if he has any room to judge, being one that’s gone with the most popular trends of the time for so long, he has no right to claim to have a sense of fashion.

Brushing off the thoughts that stall him, Makoto turns the knob, listening for the familiar click. It gives way upon a push, making a strained sound that almost makes him utter an apology for touching it in the first place. A musty scent greets him as soon as he enters, making him leer back. Gah, seems they aren’t gonna enjoy going through the dorms too much.

The Ultimate Hope doesn’t let himself be deterred by a mere scent however, marching inside with a confidence only gained by years of experience in a world that demands it. Hesitance is death; you don’t take the chance, and the world will stomp you into the ground for it. It’s honed Makoto into the man he is now, and only made him that much better in situations that called for his aid.

Though, maybe he shouldn’t be so serious. This isn’t a life or death situation; he’s just walking into his old room.

With his entrance into the area, Makoto can say one thing for certain; virtually nothing has changed. Save for the copious amounts of dust and the distinct scent of mold forming in unseen corners, it appears to be mostly intact despite everything. Just another sign that this place hasn’t even been grazed by the despairlings, and further enforcing his theory about their absence.

“Okay, let’s see…” Leaving the door ajar, Naegi steps over to the closet, opening it up with a wince. As expected, the clothes that copy his old style of wear so well are rotting right upon their hangers, immediately warding him off. They’d certainly need to take a look, but Naegi wouldn’t prefer to scavenge through piles of sickness. Call him selfish, but it’s better to just leave it instead of making things worse for others to look through.

Taking the moment to step out into the hallway for a gulp of fresh air, he marches to the bathroom. A feeling of dread coils in his gut upon nearing the wrong-fitting door, a grimace appearing upon his features. This is a spot of especially sour memories, haunting still his daily thoughts. But the years that have passed gifted some recovery, helping them not to hit as harshly as they once did.

It doesn’t prevent him from being hesitant, however. There’s much to prepare for, and if it be a hallucination just waiting to trigger upon entering, he’s sure. 

…

_‘I chickened out…’_ Naegi thinks with a grimace as he flocks to the shelves instead, looking over the dusty wood. It’s still in pretty good condition… they could gather up all the shelves from the other rooms and decide on a use for them. In here, they just look kind of tacky and aren’t the greatest for keeping important school stuff.

And… give them a good wash too. A glance at the top, and he can still see old gold flakes on its surface.

Makoto shakes his head, moving to the northern wall of the room. May as well go ahead and try to move it out a little. A common hiding place is oft behind shelves, it’s a safe place to look over. 

He winces at the sight of a few large cockroaches skittering out, stumbling back with the sudden arrival of one on his hand. A yelp of fear; he can see their wings, the bastards. It’s idiotic of him, to fear mere pests. But he can’t bring himself to man up much more, so he’s left to watching the slot between shelf and wall, and awaits any more unexpected arrivals.

He does get an arrival. But not any sort of bug.

“O-oh. Hi Kirigiri-san.” He greets with a shaky wave and lopsided grin, looking up to meet the woman’s gaze. She stands at the door, one hand on its frame and the other hanging by her side without purpose. “Guess you… heard me.” He lets a chuckle slip out as he muses, standing back up to fulfill his original intentions. “Sorry.”

Kyoko dismisses it with a huff, stepping further into the decaying dorm. “No need to apologize. I was just on my way to see what you were doing.” She walks over to stand by his side as he continues to pry open the steadily widening crevice, only able to grin. “And I see that showing off your strength to an intrusion of cockroaches.”

Makoto snorts, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think they’re too happy about their home being torn apart though.” He replies with a voice gruff from his current effort, humming each time it moves slightly. Kirigiri replies with nothing but silence, which he’s grateful for in the few moments it lasts.

The shorter of the two stands, dusting his hands whilst Kyoko sneaks in a quick look over his body for arachnids or any more pesky blattodea. “Okay, time to give it a look!” He chirps, taking cautious steps despite his cheery tone. “Can you go check out the bathroom for me, Kirigiri-san?”

Dark amethyst meets hazel-flecked jade, the owner of such mesmerizing purple gems for eyes replying with a nod. She understands well what’s associated with the section of the room, and one of them enduring an episode of PTSD is not very ideal. “Of course.”

“Great! Thanks, Kiri-san.” Naegi crouches again once he’s sure nothing will jump out at him, Kyoko leaving him to his investigating of the corner while she heads to the connected room. “Okay, let’s see…” The boy grumbles softly, moving forward to sift through the cobwebs and grime littering the slot.

It’s not long before something smooth and flat comes into his touch, green-hazel gaze giving the dark spot a quick glance. Seems it’s a bit far in… it’d be hard to get or even notice if it weren’t bare like this. “Almost… ah! Gotcha!” The Ultimate Hope pulls back, newly discovered item in hand.

With nothing else to note in the crevice, Naegi stands, placing the item on top of the shelf. It’s a book; specifically some sort of notebook with a worn cover that clearly used to have decoration. Noticeably, it’s a certain shade of green Makoto finds familiar. And then, he remembers.

_His poem book._

“H-holy shit…” The man whispers to himself as he gently grasps the edge, prying the pages from one another with a great effort not to tear. He doesn’t recall finding this during the killing game; who knows how long it’s been stuck in that crevice, just waiting to be discovered. Who _knows_ what sort of things this could reveal about their life in the past! He bought it when he was sixteen just for when he came here, after all.

Makoto leers away at the small spiders and bugs that escape between the pages, but partly glad. At least there’s some sort of life still thriving. A glance to the bathroom, Kyoko having yet to emerge from it. He can tell her about this later, for now he’ll just… take a quick flip through.

A few minutes pass, Naegi simply flipping through it with a growing smile on his face. There’s so many pages detailing a happier life. Some moments of grief over a failed grade, of venting out the nights where sleep evaded him. A book of a simple life at Hope’s Peak, where he was truly happy. Friends, he viewed as close as family, he’s sure, gained over a two year’s time. From the way some of these entries are entailed, it’s clear as day that he held them dear. Even a few embarrassing love poems for Kyoko…

Then. A change.

_We stir upon red lily blooms_

_Our steps made in haste, we hide in high walls_

_But flames, blackened in a hue of abyss chases_

_We looks out the window, and meet utter Despair_

_Its greatness unmatchable, we hide behind gray_

_Denying the seeds of the world's plague planted in our hearts_

\- Naegi Makoto, 2016

Makoto takes in a sharp breath.

He hadn’t expected to be met with words written in red pen.

“I-I-”

“You expected to die.” Kyoko says for the boy that stumbles over his own words, earning a startled jolt. “Either everyone, or yourself.”

Kyoko is not graced with any sort of assuring answer, her words a mere white noise buzzing in his ears. He can’t have… really thought that, right? He can’t have been losing hope! Perhaps a vent of a temporary feeling? Surely! “I-I mean, yeah, I’d… imagine I’d get kinda depressed o-over… I’m sure things turn up though!” He says cheerily, turning the page.

Yet more red greets their eyes.

_The world beyond these walls is in flames_

_I cannot see it_

_But its presence is white hot_

_And its crackling heard through our soundproof dorms_

_Its smoke suffocating us, yet we pay it no heed_

_Awaiting a dawn clouded by smoke_

_\- Naegi Makoto, 2016_

Makoto swallows hard; familiar dread begins to coil itself in his chest, telling him not to turn the page, yet also to see if it gets better. In what way, he’s unsure by now, what with a mind as traitorous as his.

Kyoko tells him the same. “Naegi-kun, don’t.”

Her voice is firm, but he doesn’t relent, turning the page with wide eyes. The red pen reflects in his faintly green gaze, pupils mere pinpricks at the revealing nature of these poems he’s written. Every page, sticking by the same red ink, from tellings of the death that they float barely above to updates on himself. They, no prettier.

_Everyone is worried for me. They try to get me to come out and do stuff with them. Even Togami-kun and Celeste are trying to talk to me. It feels weird, though. To do things when so many people are dying. I can’t help but look at the pool water and see hot pink._

_When is this going to end? We’ve barely been here… what, a month? I feel like I’m already losing my mind._

That’s only one of the many diary entries this book has also managed to deliver. No matter how worn the pages are, just a glimpse of a few words brings light upon a memory. Writing it down with light strokes, hunched over his desk with only the lamp from the library to give him sight, shaking with the emotions he keeps reigned in. 

It summons such a painful sort of feeling, conflicting with his mind’s passage of time far too much. It’s too tight of a pain, he can’t think past it. This overwhelming sense of dread for a time that’s long gone, an event that’s passed them by. It’s been five years. Five years since then, since they watched a world fall to its knees and fires rage and blood fill the streets and skies-

“MAKOTO!”

A yell pierces through the memories flowing in, acting as a dam would. His eyes clear of their blank fog, and he turns attention to the one that’s left his ears ringing with his own name.

A look of fear, brow creased and mouth slightly parted in another call of his name is a look he never wants to see on Kyoko again.

“K-K… Kyo…” Naegi breathes softly, frozen in his place against the foot of the bed. When they had moved to the floor he has little clue. He only knows that he’s just _barely_ able to keep himself from falling apart again at the memories of their time in school, and the awful emotions associated with them.

Makoto swallows hard, throat suddenly feeling dry and scratchy. Had he been screaming? His eyes feel wet, and _the taste of blood-_ ah, just his lip. He licks his lips to clean them of blood, grimacing at the taste of copper.

“S-sorry…” The boy finally rasps, body finally managing to relax somewhat. He continues to stay curled up however, gaze downcast from his worrying best friend, the woman - perhaps _human_ \- he admires the most. “I… I-I just…” He takes a deep breath, fingers scratching at his pants legs, trying to dig into skin. Any way to keep himself here, and away from fiery thoughts cooking skin and eyes. “... S’rry…” He finally breathes out, no other words coming to mind.

Kyoko, rather than sighing like he strangely expected her to (or maybe not so strangely; his family and “friends” would give the softest of sighs when they’d see poems scrawled upon paper, lead ready to snap from stress of varied kinds), Kyoko places a hand on his shoulder. The touch is light, yet firm, hard leather quick to ground the tensed male.

“It’s okay, Naegi-kun.” She hums, and the smooth sound is that of hot chocolate sipped upon a snowy winter day. Soothed, Naegi gives a smile of vim, hardly natural but better than anything less.

“Th-thanks… Kirigiri-san.” He replies softly, shakily. But not a voice crack to be heard now, so improvement. “Lemme just-” He places a hand on the bed’s edge, the blue blanket upon it unsavory to the touch. With an uncomfortable grip, he rises back to his feet, trying not to let shaken thoughts get to him. He can’t fall apart _here_ , in this hellish ruin. Another time, another day may he let out these tears.

But for now, his stare trails back to the notebook abandoned upon the worn shelf, wincing at a pain too fleeting to comment on. If it weren’t already clear, there’s plenty of memories and emotions tied to this little book, 192 pages of dread and depression. Not quite despair, not the type he’s been so heartily exposed to, leaving him jaded at the ripe age of 23. This, this was more natural, when it was less a drug and more a poison.

Naegi turns to face Kirigiri, meeting her gaze brimming with a justifiable worry.

He hates the sight of it. 

“Don’t worry.” Makoto begins, features softening. “I’m fine.” He says, and lies right through his fucking teeth. And his worst lie yet, as Kyoko merely takes it as a prompt to press.

“What did you remember?” She asks, not making a move yet managing to block him from walking back to the source of such intense panic.

He runs a hand through unkempt hazel hair; he had forgotten to comb it after his morning shower, worry a lit candle flickering in his heart for some time now. Ever since he realized he’d have to actually, _really_ , come back here, it’s been weighing down on his mind. In fact, they were supposed to come here, what, two months ago maybe? 

He thinks for a bit too long; he’s silent for _far_ too long. But Kyoko is patient, unlike the others that would press and whine and worry worry _worry_ over him and not let him think, not for a bit. Kyoko, he’s so grateful for, in ways she probably has no idea of. 

“I… I know it’s not much, b-but, um…” He swallows hard; why must it be such a challenge to get out a simple handful of words? “I-I remember when we… when we stayed here. And I was happy, at f-first, but… I th-think the isolation got to m-me really quickly.” He tries, _tries_ to dig up more from that small tear in his forcibly repressed memories. But it clearly won’t give, so he simply sighs. “S-sorry… I don’t remember much m-more than that…” Not right now, at least.

Kyoko shakes her head, giving a smile of sympathy. “It’s alright, Naegi-kun. I’m sorry you have to recall such an awful time, but… this is a great discovery.” He watches as she walks back to the shelf, gliding a hand over the old notebook. “This means there’s a possibility of triggering our memories. And though they might be painful, it’s a chance to regain a life we barely recall, and no one but us ever had.”

Makoto frowns at that. “Are you sure?” He replies before he can stop himself, and regrets it.

“Hm?”

“A-are you… sure it’s such a great idea? To… get back our memories?”

There’s a sort of emotion there that unsettles Kyoko. Hesitance, clearly, but more lurks beneath that tone he’s trying desperately not to break. “... Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” The Ex-Detective keeps herself composed in the face of his questions, despite the confusion and anger over the implication he’s making.

“W-well, um…” The boy shuffles in place, glancing to everywhere but the person he’s speaking to. His hand moves up to scratch his cheek, smile nervous and strained as he forms a response. Not that it’s any good. “I… I don’t know if we _should._ I-I know that it might r-reveal some stuff, but…” He trails off, a fatal mistake.

“Shouldn’t we regain what we’ve lost?” Kirigiri responds, and Naegi’s helpless to the harsh flame sparking to life between them. “I’m sorry, Naegi-kun, but I’d very much like to recall _most of my life._ ”

Makoto tenses, a step back taken. “B-but… wh-what if it’s not _good_ , K-Kiri?” He tries not to lash back, because it’d only make things worse. And he doesn’t want this escalating more than it has to. “Who _knows_ what we’ll uncover from back then!” There’s so much potential. So much awful, _awful_ potential that he can hardly stand to think about.

Kyoko, however, sees it differently. “We could remember so many things about our friends, we could remember what happened to our families, we could find out if there’s anyone else that had a hand in the Tragedy! There’s so many important things sealed away, and you suddenly want to _abandon that?”_

“YES!”

A shout, enough to silence her in an instant. “Yes, Kiri! I am!” He barks, growls edging his tone. “Because I’d rather live in the fucking present than be forced to do with even more shit that can’t even be fixed!”

Neither party says another word, a long pause spawning a thick silence.

Kyoko catches the Ultimate Hope relaxing, realizing what he’s done. But she spares it no thought, simply turning her back to him. “Fine then. If you wish to be selfish enough to keep yourself from remembering everyone, too cowardly to face what had happened before, then you may do that alone.” She huffs, and begins to march to the door, grabbing the knob as she moves to open it.

And then, she hears a sob. 

Naegi quivers; every limb quaking, like a leaf caught in a hurricane, desperately trying to hang onto the branch its attached to. “I… I-I’m _scared_ .” He finally breathes, hardly able to keep himself together. “I’m scared I-I’ll remember all of th-that, and… and it’ll h-harm our relationship. O-or when I w-was writing in that notebook… when I felt like _that._ ” A pleading glance, jade eyes locked onto amethyst. “I don’t wanna feel that, Kyoko. I don’t think I could take it.”

Her features tighten into a regretful grimace, the sight far too depressing to simply ignore. “Naegi-kun.” She begins softly, taking fleeting steps back towards the tearful future headmaster. It’s a moment before she can form any response, still feeling out of her element in a situation like this. She has the facts; she’s upset him and brought fear that she may cut off ties with him over something so utterly simple. The problem is delivering a proper apology without wounding him any further.

With hesitance, she replies, voice as soft and soothing as she can muster. “Makoto, I… I understand. I shouldn’t disregard how you feel about what we could possibly discover.”

In her moment’s pause, Makoto retorts. “B-but… shouldn’t I be able to h-handle it? N-no matter what’s in there, I shouldn’t be a coward about the despair we might recall…”

Kyoko shakes her head, brow knitted with worry. “Makoto, you clearly don’t want to do this. It’s fine, I’m sure we could find a way to use the Neo World Program to help regain our memories, and you can do it another time. Or never, if you wish.” She forces a small smile, taking his slightly calloused hand into her gloved one. “We all recover at our own pace, and you’ve been through plenty enough, just as the rest of us have. We all deserve a break if we want it.”

A thick silence forms in the few seconds he refrains from answering, wide stare locked onto her hand. Then, his eyes flutter closed, righting his posture. “... I wanna do it together. With everyone.” They open once more, returning her smile. “Even if one of us also wants to delay, I think we should wait. Our memories might reveal more about our old relationships, and we should all be able to know and face it together rather than keep secrets. Just… gimme some time.”

Kyoko relaxes, as does he. “Of course, Naegi-ku-”

“And don’t call me by my last name.” He cuts in, clasping his other hand over hers. “We’ve been through a lot together, right? It’s been years, we’re… far overdue for calling each other by our first names.”

A light blush tints her cheeks, but the lilac-haired girl is swift in disregarding such embarrassment. “Of course, M-Makoto-kun.”

She relishes his light chuckle, the pair finally pulling away so he can wipe his face of previously shed tears. “Thank you, Kiri- Kyoko-san.” Makoto sighs, taking a deep breath. “Alright, lets read through this notebook, then we should regroup with everyone else. The dorms might have more important stuff, so we should go through them quickly.”

As the shorter of the two walks back to the shelf, Kyoko begins to worry. “Nae- Makoto-kun, isn’t that dangerous?” She goes to his side, watching him stare down at the left open book marked with kanji in light red pen. “You had such an intense reaction, are you sure you can finish…?”

He looks to meet her gaze, expression immediately reassuring. It’s a familiar one, from times when they’d be shivering in alleyways together in a world tormented by despair, huddled close for hardly gained warmth. He’d give such a determined look to the rest of them, telling them that things will get better in the future. And they couldn’t help but listen.

She’s brought back from her sudden reminiscing by a call of her name, locking once again onto his soothing expression. “Kyoko. It’s okay. I… need to face my problems before I can get better, right?”

She nods, hesitant. “Right.”

He nods right back, and once again leads their stares back to the paper. He turns the page, immediately feeling his chest tighten up again.

_I’m tired_

_I’m so, so tired_

_And I’m not sure if this is all of this If this is even right anymore_ _I wanna see them I wanna see them_ _agaIn pleaSE PLE **A** S E P _

It’s clear that the pen must have run dry, the final “a” of the page bolded and slightly tearing the paper from a frantic attempt to keep it readable. He must have given up on the rest though, only the faint outline of another useless plea visible.

With shuddery breath, Makoto turns the page, and… nothing. Then again, a single letter. ‘L’ is all that’s written, ink hardly showing up. It’s likely he got a new pen. But it didn’t work. The dark marks of tears that once fell fresh upon the paper still manage to send an awful chill through Makoto, but he tries to push through. It’s fine, it’ll be fine, he had to have pulled thr-

The next page is a blur of red, only four words able to be made out in the dark scribbles, all of the ink of one pen likely spent on this mess of a repeated, silent cry:

_**I want to die** _

And after that… nothing. Nothing but blank, blank, **_blank._ **

The only thing keeping Makoto from lapsing back into tears is Kyoko’s presence by his side, which he’s quick to take advantage of. With a quick movement, he grasps Kyoko’s hand, a thumb rubbing circles into the top of his hand. 

“... O-okay. Okay.” He pants, as if he had run a marathon without break. “I’m… I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Despite his words, their hands still stay locked with one another for another long minute. And then, a few more, as Kyoko gently takes the book beneath her free arm, leading her silent friend out of the dorm.

“... Kiri?”

Naegi finally murmurs as the pair wander the halls. Not for any reason other than to calm down from the already eventful look-over of the old school building.

“Yes, Naegi-kun?”

He looks up; his smile soft. “I think… one day, I’ll try to get my memories, too.”

She smiles right back, continuing on. “Take your time, then. Not all of us need to do it at once.” She pauses, then chimes in moments later. “And I… think you deserve a break.”

Something flutters in her heart, at that soft little chuckle Makoto replies with. “Okay. Thanks, Kirigiri-san.”

“Please. Call me Kyoko.”

* * *

Shadows cloak the bedroom of their quaint forest home when Kyoko walks in, save for a single light in its corner. There, a desk sits, and a small figure hunched over it. The faint sound of a fountain pen scrawling kanji upon paper is the only sound to accompany the singing of crickets beyond the enclosed bedroom walls. She takes a glance to the bed; the only thing upon it is a binder, likely taken off just a few minutes ago. She doubts its owner would go long without it, lest he let dysphoria sink in.

The carpet muffles the sound of the Ex-Detective’s shoes as she walks over, not worried about making herself known. Her husband appears to be deep in his writing however, hyperfocused on scrawling words down upon the paper’s surface. It’s surprising, but perhaps the contents of his writing could shed light upon his fixation. Not that it’s uncommon for him to continue doing something for hours on end because he’s gotten so into it. But it wouldn’t hurt to peek...

_I glimpse a shadow_

_It irks the edges of my vision_

_Ever present, it looms_

_Brooding, watching, waiting_

_A flash of hot pink_

_When we expect it least_

_The shadow, ours_

_\- Naegi Makoto, 2021_

Kyoko hums once done looking over the text, followed by a startled yelp from the male in the chair before her. “K-Kiri!” He greets with a shaky chuckle, arms moving to cover the notebook’s contents from sight. “A-ah, hi! When did you…”

“I managed to finish my work early tonight.” She lets out an amused chuckle at his reddened complexion, gently patting down his hair’s prominent spike. “And how about you? Planning to sleep soon?”

Naegi, beginning to recover from his lover’s startling arrival, turns back to the page under his arms. “Ah, maybe… in a bit.” He brushes a sliver of hair behind his ear, staring down at the page for an uncomfortable moment.

And then, it connects for Kyoko. Binder already off, the bedsheets, now that her vision’s adjusted, seeming ruffled already. The way Makoto hums, unaware of his surroundings and even the contents of the little poem she has no doubt is about their experiences in past betrayals.

A hand places itself on Makoto’s shoulder, and once again, he jolts. “Makoto. Come to bed.”

She glimpses a look of scorn, lasting barely a half second before he calms. The girl seems to have that effect on him, after all. Could be the scent of lavender that follows her wherever she goes, or maybe her calm and collected attitude, perhaps even her voice that sounds like the smooth sacchire to his ears.

But he knows without a doubt that it’s all of those and more that make her so perfect to help him, just as he helps her with his positivity! He’s probably helping in more ways than that, but it’s hard to tell.

“... Okay.” He finally gives, setting down his pen and standing from the desk. His fingers are hesitant to leave the page, but he’s quick to close it, one fluid motion flipping the cover over the freshly bought book and turning off the light. The pair, though plunged into the darkness of the late hour of the night, makes their way to the bed, the boy much more cautious about his path than the girl.

The couple don’t take long to slip into the comfort of bed, and even less so to slip into a perfect sleeping position. Makoto, wrapped in the arms of his wife, snuggled up with his back to her chest and hair pressed against her chin. It’s a comforting position, the pair able to tell that their other is safe at all times with ease. Surely, it’ll be undone once the fall asleep, but for now they keep it.

“... Makoto-kun.”

“Hm? Yeah, Kyoko?” He murmurs, looking up at her in the blackness. Kyoko doesn’t meet his curious stare, instead looking out at nothing as she speaks.

“Have you… thought about doing some happier poems? I-if it’s not a problem…” She lets free a rare stammer, bringing her face towards the pillow beneath their heads. “I’m aware I shouldn’t judge, so forgive me, but perhaps writing less about the Tragedy would aid you.”

She isn’t graced with an immediate answer, instead feeling him shift and snuggle closer against her chest. “That’s a good point, Kyoko.” He finally replies, voice soft for little reason. “I’ll… I’ll try. Thanks.” For assurance, he presses a kiss to her arm, smiling at her quiet sigh of relief.

“Okay, Makoto-kun. I’m sorry for keeping you up longer. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He yawns, pulling the covers close around them before succumbing to barely staved exhaustion.

* * *

The night comes and goes, and the morning is an immediate oddity.

_Makoto woke up before her._

Perhaps she hadn’t had her alarm on; but then again, she’s hardwired to wake up at six by now. Get up, wake up Makoto, make coffee, take a shower after her husband, and then kiss him goodbye. Even on days she’s off from her job as a private investigator, she usually wakes up before he can.

But instead, in the place of her lover is a single paper.

She hardly wastes time in reading it; Kyoko is the type to think of the worst-case scenario rather quickly, and with their reputations? Who knows if this is a ransom note. Perhaps, _perhaps even a suici_ -

_I stir upon red lilies_

_They still remain, stagnate_

_Such a tight feeling they create_

_Right in my chest_

_But they’re wilting_

_The dread isn’t as strong_

_The flames not scorching_

_The flowers still sting my lungs_

_I’m still so tired from running_

_But with everyone to support me_

_Maybe one day, I’ll be able to stomp them out_

_-_ _Naegi Makoto, 2021_

A pleasant surprise greets Kyoko’s vision, the woman going from worrisome to elated within moments.

“Kyoko?”

She looks up; there at the door, she’s met with the sight of the author of this little poem, a smile on his face. It differs from his usual ones. It’s softer, more of a passive positivity Kyoko isn’t quite sure she’s witnessed before. And one that much more elusive since the final killing game.

Rather than answer, she slips out from the covers, and without hesitation, pulls Makoto into a kiss.

Maybe recovery won't be so hard if it's with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yall watch out for hopefully a Dark Sheep update or a komaegi soulmate au fic in the future ;3
> 
> Tumblr: https://makowo-ao3.tumblr.com/
> 
> Discord: https://discord.gg/xBq7pUM

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Words in Red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118466) by [Pegasister60](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasister60/pseuds/Pegasister60)




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